In truth, I've been doing okay for the most part. I have been trying to get in some sort of a routine. If you know me, you know I love routine. So far, it's been: wake up, make coffee, hop on the Peloton for a ride, eat breakfast, teach my morning session, walk the dogs, teach again, make a Real Dinner (last night it was this delicious creamy cauliflower pasta; tonight, it's going to be homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese as I think comfort food is needed at the moment). I'm probably going to take a hot bath with a book later, too, which is one of the most comforting things on earth to me at any time.
I had a lot of emotions today, namely because I woke up to some truly horrid hate mail about what happened to me at my old school district. Every few months, someone new re-discovers my story and sends me a nasty note. Today's was especially bad and it was a rough start to the morning. Most days, I can shake it off quickly and move on into teaching or a comedy show or whatever else I have to do. It feels a little harder to escape without so many good and positive things to focus on. I know it's a small thing, and whoever wrote it is a small-minded idiot and all the other things I can say to myself, but also: why now? What kind of monster uses time during one of the most stressful things anyone has endured to send such poison into the world? It's ugly.
But mostly, today was sobering as I talked with my vice principal about things we need to accomplish for the start of school next fall, which feels so far away and that I hope will actually come more quickly than it feels now. I didn't feel emotional about getting work done, but mostly because we talked about a few students I care about a lot who are at home and in situations that I cannot guarantee are safe. Being a teacher is so much more than just delivering content -- there are so many emotional needs and things to take care of, and being away from kids during a time like this is hard. Whether my students love or hate school in general or my class specifically, it is routine and regular and they know what to expect.
I've watched several friends express very real fears over income, over what will happen to their families, to their bills, to their lives. Quite honestly, I don't think the disease has hit super hard here yet, and I worry about the weeks to come: what happens when folks I know contract the disease or we begin to lose people we know or they begin to? It's terrifying and sad. I feel like we are waiting to board a terrifying roller coaster, but one that has no certain end time.
There is so much unknown. A friend of mine mentioned on one of the nine million Marco Polo conversations we have had that for the most part, when our brains know what to expect, we can adjust to just about anything, no matter how challenging. It's the uncertainty that gets us every time -- it's that which makes our brains feel unsteady, and that is what creates anxiety.
So for now, I'm trying to make as much of the unknown a known quantity. Routine, movement, the unending love of my dogs, writing, breathing, good food, trying to create a new normal in my classroom, and patience for all, even jerks who send hateful emails late at night to people they don't know.
Oh, and of course, flowers. A few shots from my neighborhood:
I hope things are well in your corner of the world.
First, I am so sorry to hear about such terrible words reaching you first thing this morning. What a terrible experience you've recently gone through and I imagine it's still pretty fresh. Second, thank you for being on the front lines of teachers doing invaluable and such complex, hard work! You're right, it's so much more than assignments and curriculum. Lastly, heres to more ease, more flowers and more dog snuggles in the coming months! xo
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